Page 91 of Stolen By the Duke of Stone

She reached forward and caught his wrist, holding his hand in her lap. “You said we would not have a family.”

“I…” He took another deep breath and turned his hand so their fingers linked. “I was afraid of that, as well. I thought a man like me, who had caused so much death, did not deserve to be the harbinger of new life. I was afraid that whatever darkness is inside me might become inside a son of ours, too.”

“Oh, Andrew,” she whispered.

“But I regret that stance now. And I do not uphold it. If you want children, Jessamine, then we will have them. Tens of them if you would like.”

She cupped his cheek, and it felt like redemption. “Perhaps not tens. But one or two might be nice. So William can have siblings growing up. I always wished for a sister when I was a girl, and now I have Irene. Let’s give William a brother and sister at least.”

An heir and a spare, just like every good duke ought. But this was no longer about succession or logistics; this was about a family whom he could love, and who could all love one another.

This was for Jessamine.

“When?” he asked, looking into her face. “There is no guarantee of anything, of course. But thus far…”

“I know,” she said softly. “I know you have been avoiding the possibility of children.”

“Those days are over, so long as you are prepared to become with child. Is that what you want?”

A slow smile spread across her face. “Now?”

Desire stirred in him, just as it had before, but like wildfire this time, almost impossible to ignore. “I want a family, Jessamine,” he told her. “But only with you.”

She tugged at his wrist. “Well, then,” she said, her voice turning throaty. “It strikes me we ought to get started.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Jessamine watched Andrew as, in the guttering firelight, he removed his coat. Every movement he made was methodical, done in a specific order. That was the way he liked things—for them all to be done exactly as he believed they ought.

At the beginning of their marriage, she had seen that inflexibility as an impediment. A problem. Now, she understood him better. That inflexibility, adhering to his morals and beliefs, had both kept him alive and hindered his growth.

He had needed to hold tight to the things that mattered. Survival in the war had been about doing things precisely right all of the time. If he didn’t, people died. Discipline, for him, was the backbone of life and society.

But she wanted to introduce a little flexibility into his life. Especially when it came to William. And her.

His gaze rose slowly to hers, the heat inside it setting fire to her own nerves. How sweet it was to burn. She would never have known if she had not cracked Andrew’s icy shell.

“I have been waiting for this for longer than you could ever know,” he said gruffly, his voice sending shivers through her. Such need—she didn’t know how she could ever have incited it in him.

She never wanted to lose it.

“Tell me,” she said.

He hesitated. This never came easily to him, opening himself up like a clam for her to harvest. The only time he felt safe was when he kept everything vulnerable tucked away. But for them to have a future, he would have to open himself up to her, if no one else.

“Since before we kissed,” he said gruffly, folding his coat carefully and placing it on a chair. He turned his attention to his waistcoat. A now-familiar bulge decorated his breeches. “Since our wedding night, truth be told. I never thought…”

“You never expected to want me?” Jessamine asked, toying with the ribbons at the bodice of her nightgown.

“Precisely.” His nostrils flared as he watched her.

Time to put on a show.

Forgiving him had been easy. She’d forgiven him the moment he had taken her into his arms and carried her into her bedroom. As soon as he admitted his wrongdoing and that he wanted to pursue a life with her, she had completely and utterly forgiven him.

But she could not forget.

One did not simply forget. His dismissal of her had hurt, and she did not want to repay pain with pain—that was one of the first issues that came from warmongering—but she was more than happy to make him suffer in other ways.